Page 24 of To Save a Kingdom

Aliya

Aliya rolled over on the bed, the bedding tangled in her legs. Strands of hair were plastered against her damp forehead. She blinked, staring into the gloomy room.

Try as she might to remember, the nightmare lingered at the periphery of her awareness. Its presence raised her hackles and made her stomach churn, but not enough to allow her conscious mind to parse through any details.

A twinge of disappointment twisted her chest at the cold sheets where Elessan had slept.

Heaving a deep sigh, she wiped a hand down her face, clearing the last vestiges of slumber and brushing her unruly locks out of her eyes. It was better he wasn’t here, so she didn’t wake him. She wouldn’t be falling back to sleep any time soon, which didn’t bode well for being bright-eyed in the morning.

Dangling her legs over the side of the bed, her toes curled in the thick rug as she stood. Pale moonlight peeked through her window.

Grabbing a shawl from the wardrobe, she drew it around her shoulders and stepped into the beam. The garden below was bathed in silver light. A walk through the roses and lilacs might help calm her mind so she could get back to sleep. She buckled a belt with a discreet dagger at her waist, making sure it was hidden from obvious view. Sliding her feet into a pair of flats buried in the back of the closet behind the fancier, more court-appropriate footwear, she ducked into the hallway.

The two guards she’d left stationed outside were nowhere to be seen—either they’d abandoned their post or they were on a quick break. She chose to believe the latter, though the need for both of them to leave together was unlikely and unprofessional.

The sentries would never have dared be caught away from their posts if Malkov was still here. For the second time that day, she wondered if being queen would be easier if she’d had it in her to rule with fear like he had. But she was already having a hard time sleeping at night—throwing her moral compass to the wind would only make the problem worse.

Something shuffled through a beam of light at the end of the hall. A person, dressed in a dark tunic and trousers with crimson hands and some sort of red and black scarf wrapped around his head was slinking along the wall away from her room.

Normally Aliya wasn’t prone to bouts of paranoia, but it was too much of a coincidence that both her sentries were missing just when someone was sneaking through her hallway. She had two options—either risk her life in pursuit and possibly find out who this individual was and what they were up to, or go back and lock herself in her room until her guards or Elessan came to rescue her.

She snorted. Forget that.

Tightening her grip on her dagger, she took off down the hall. “Stop! By order of the queen!”

The figure froze for half a heartbeat at the sound of her voice. Then, they sprinted around the corner.

“Valek!” Aliya charged after them, racing at full-tilt.

The passage in front of her was dark, but empty. She glanced along both walls—there were no doorways the interloper could’ve ducked into. The ceiling had no vents or openings.

It made no sense. She hadn’t been more than fifteen seconds behind them, and yet, they’d disappeared without a trace.

If she couldn’t see her target, there was no way she would be walking down a gloomy hallway by herself just asking to be ambushed. She may be too independent for everyone else, but she wasn’t a moron.

Their hands had likely been red because they were wearing gloves. And a crimson and black scarf around their head only meant one thing—they were hiding their identity. And not only that, but they were doing it with Malkov’s family colors.

Aliya sighed. Well, standing here like an idiot wasn’t going to accomplish anything. Going back to her room would only force her to sit alone with her thoughts and wonder who the skulking figure was. And since she definitely wasn’t going to go down the hall after them, she may as well continue what she’d originally planned and go for a walk through the gardens to clear her head.

She’d reached the ground floor before her ears caught the soft scrape of leather soles against stone behind her. Adjusting her grip on the handle of her blade, she ducked into a side passage and tensed, waiting for whomever was following her to appear.

A few heartbeats later, a shadow coasted around the corner.

Aliya lunged, her dagger aiming for her tail’s gut.

A strong hand gripped her wrist, redirecting her attack to the side. Pressure had her fingers spasming open. Her weapon clattered to the ground. Muscular arms tugged, using her momentum to spin her until her back was pinned against a muscled chest.

She squirmed, yanking her hand out of his grip so she could get enough leverage to ram her elbow into her attacker’s solar plexus.

Before she could scream, her assailant leaned forward, putting his lips to her ear. “Hello, my queen.”

Her knees weakened and she was glad he held her so tight, otherwise she likely would have collapsed. “Elessan!”

He pressed a kiss to the sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulders, and her legs trembled for an entirely different reason.

“Feeling a little jumpy tonight?” he asked as his eyes scanned the hallway behind her, probably searching for her guards.

She leaned into him, enjoying his scent of spring rain with pine and the sensation of his arms wrapped around her. “A little. I had a nightmare and when I left my room, my sentries were away from their post. I suppose I’m being paranoid.” She didn’t mention the person skulking about her hall in the gloves and scarf—doing so would only lead to yet another lecture about risking her life.